


Faerie Ring

by elwarre



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jensen, Community: spn_otpkink, Fairies, First Time, Halloween, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Top Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwarre/pseuds/elwarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Fairy Jensen is on his way back home to the palace when he gets jumped. But then a huge guy in a shiny armor comes to his rescue. As thank you Jensen offers himself to his protector. And Jared? Of course he fucks the pretty fairy."</p><p>Beta-ed by the marvelous <a href="http://safiyabat.livejournal.com/">safiyabat</a>.</p><p>And yes, I know I'm the "ae" spelling is pretentious, but it's just so much prettier that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faerie Ring

Jared curses to himself as he stumbles over the crack on his best friend’s front porch. _Fucking Chad_. A small party, Chad had promised, something nice and quiet for a few close friends. Yeah, right.

 _Should have known better_ , he thinks.

The house behind him is loud with music and beer-induced laughter. He’s drunk enough, drunker than he wants to be, and it’s all Chad’s fault. Jared knows Chad worries about him, thinks he keeps too much to himself. Chad’s way of helping, though, is a constant succession of attempts to get Jared laid. He tolerates the efforts with as much patience as he can manage, but they’re starting to piss him off. 

Jared has tried with girls, heaven help him, he’s tried, but it’s never done any good. He knows what he wants, knows it isn’t soft curves and feminine emptiness his body craves, just as he knows beyond a doubt how his family will react to such news. And he isn’t ready, not yet, to face that.

He snorts as he considers the fake armor he’s wearing, the plastic tight on his chest and too short for his legs. He’d been unable to find anything quite his size, which is ironic, now isn’t it. Leave it to him to choose as a costume artificial armor that doesn’t quite fit. 

The air is cool on his liquor-warmed skin as he cuts through the park to his house. He focuses on the swollen moon and struggles to walk a straight line, but the moon swims dangerously, and he thinks maybe that it wouldn’t hurt to rest, just a bit, to sleep off some of the alcohol haze here on the dew-spotted grass.

His foot slips on a crushed mushroom as he sinks gratefully to his knees and presses his head to the cool earth. It’s not particularly comfortable, he admits grudgingly, but its better than one of Chad’s bimbos all the same. At least it doesn’t have those obviously fake boobs or long, painted nails to drag through his hair. He humphs a little, annoyed with Chad all over again, but soon even that thought slips away and he falls heavily asleep. 

\---

Jensen smiles to himself as he nears the edge of his forest. There is a part of him, a small part, one he’ll never acknowledge to his father, that loves the humans, that maybe even envies them a little. Sure, they lack the eerie grace of the fae, the long lines and gentle angles that make up Jensen’s people. And the human world is nothing like his home. The colors here are muted, the speech guttural and slow, and every corner here hosts layers of dirt and grime that would burn away in seconds in the clean sunlight and breeze of Jensen’s world. But the grittiness attracts him. Human life is grey and ambiguous, their world a swarm of pandemonium and possibility that Jensen observes with silent longing. 

One night a year, though, he joins the chaos, his father’s wishes be damned.

All Hallow’s Eve is Jensen’s invitation, and he takes it, gladly. For that one night he can pass undetected, his wings for once a mark of his belonging. He never lets go, not completely. Never forgets he’s a stranger in a strange land. He avoids conversation, takes meager sips of their sour beer, hides himself in corners and shadows. But he watches.

He sees gaudy costumes, baubles and feathers fake and plastic and nothing like the ornate apparel of faerie revelers. There are fevered kisses, careless touches, and Jensen’s body wants, longs for this indiscreet coupling that is worlds away from the carefully planned union he’ll have someday with his chosen partner. 

He turns his head away. This isn’t his world, will never be, and he’ll only hurt himself playing pretend. It’s time to go home.

The walk through the suburb - a strange word, Jensen thinks to himself, and one that encapsulates the unplanned awkwardness of human existence so very well - is long and chilly. He passes clumps of colorful children and mostly naked women, and his mind slips unbidden to the stories his father tells of years past when this night was a time of worship of the fae, when humans left gifts to their otherworldly neighbors and planned celebrations in their honor. Humans have long since abandoned that worship, long since lost faith in the fae’s existence, even. Jensen supposes he should mourn that loss - his father certainly does - but that hidden corner of his mind that spurs this annual visit suggests he might like it better this way.

He crosses the empty clover field at the edge of his forest and stops near the faerie ring. It’s time to go home, and he knows it, knows both that the evening is over and that there won’t be another, not for him. He’s the damned faerie prince, next in line for the throne, and it’s past time he grew up.

He’s just barely registered the snoring man on the ground before him when something slams hard into the back of his head, and darkness envelops him, and he slumps forward, unconscious.

\---

Jared wakes to shouting. He blinks to clear his sleep-fogged eyes, but the world keeps swimming, distinct flashes of the woods he knows and something definitively else. 

At the edge of his vision, there and not there, two men smash angry fists on a third who’s crumpled up small on the ground, his arms raised defensively. Jared blinks again, thinks maybe something is wrong with his head, something slipped in his drink, or perhaps he landed harder than he remembers. But the men flash again, and brain-damage aside, if someone’s getting hurt he has to help.

He pushes himself to his feet, woozy in the weirdly flickering world, and stumbles over to where the men are fighting. Closer now, the cries of pain from the wounded man clear Jared’s head, fill him with justified rage. He swings his fist out, satisfied by the loud crack of bone on bone. One man down easy, taken by surprise, and the second turns toward Jared. This one’s face is hidden behind a Halloween mask, but his body looks broad and firm and Jared winces, wishes he’d had the presence of mind to knock out the larger man first.

The man lunges forward and manages to connect a few blows, spreading spiderweb cracks on the plastic armor. Jared catches one meaty fist and twists it behind his back and up, up, until the bone snaps. He screams, and Jared shoves him down to the ground and pins him there, boot at his throat.

The smaller man unfolds himself, and Jared notices for the first time that both he and his costume are gorgeous, beyond-this-world gorgeous, all green eyes and long lashes and delicate, silver-veined wings that Jared observes during the snatches of time the flashing world permits. There’s even a crust of blood where one wing tore, and Jared marvels at the realism. 

“Um, hi, and thank you, I guess. I’m Jensen.”

Jared startles at his voice and must accidentally shift his weight because the man beneath him groans.

There’s a small laugh, and the winged man - _Jensen_ \- smiles at him. “You can let them go now. They’re stuck here anyway. Someone will come by to take care of them eventually.”

Jared can’t decide which is more curious, the idea of the attackers being somehow stuck, or what exactly Jensen means by “take care of them.” 

Before he can make up his mind, though, Jensen grabs his hand and tugs him forward, saying, “Come with me. It’ll be easier for you outside the ring.”

And Jared wonders about that, too, as he follows Jensen into the forest, but then the flickering stops, and he scrunches his eyes closed against the suddenness of it. When he opens them, the world, if strangely dreamlike, is, at least, solid.

“What the hell was that?”

Jensen smirks and tilts his head. “That, my dashing knight, was a faerie ring, a doorway of sorts between my world and yours. Fortunately for me, you stumbled into it. Unfortunately for you, they’re not exactly stable, and that can be difficult on human constitutions.” 

He nods as if that explains everything, and Jared figures one or the other of them must be tripping something good. Maybe both. Though his vision does seem a bit more steady now. 

Then Jensen looks at him curiously. “Do you have a name?”

“Uh, yeah,” he stutters. “Jared. I’m Jared.”

Jensen smiles, and Jared feels like his heart might explode at the blinding beauty of it. “Hi, Jared. Thank you for saving me. I knew that going there,” he says, gesturing aimlessly with one fine-boned hand, “was a bit of a risk, but I hardly expected to be jumped. Thank you.” His wings flutter with his words, and Jared wonders how he’s controlling them. “If you’ll follow me for a moment, I’d like to show my gratitude properly.”

Jensen leads him deeper into the woods, and for the first time, Jared allows himself to marvel at his surroundings. It is by far the most enchanting forest he’s ever seen. The trees stand tall and unyielding, their sturdy bark softened by moss, and the ground below is carpeted with red and green leaves which crinkle as he steps, the slight rustle melding seamlessly with the surrounding chorus of birdsong.

He watches Jensen, curious once again at the wings, the way the light filters through the silver lace, the way they shy away from brush and trees as Jensen walks. Then Jensen stops at the edge of a clearing, and Jared gasps.

The beauty of this place - wherever this place is, because Jared is starting to believe Jensen’s hints that they are someplace else, someplace separate from the drab bustle of Jared’s suburban life - astonishes him once again. 

The grass here is softer, greener, than any he’s seen before, and the shadows cast by the stately trees seem to glimmer with invisible life. The sun above is brilliant, burning without heat or pain, uninhibited by the spread of lazy clouds. And then Jensen steps into the clearing, and that sunlight hits his wings, and Jared finds he has no voice, no breath left in his lungs, because the wings are alive, elegant and sparkling, trembling with movement despite the lack of breeze, and the blood that drips from the jagged tear is real.

\---

His knight looks stunning in the faerie sun, and surprised, too, and Jensen can guess why. This land is familiar to him, the home of his childhood, but Jared comes from that other world, the world of hints and shadows and tangled morality, and, oh yeah, he chuckles to himself, people there don’t have wings.

He smiles reassuringly and holds out a hand to Jared, and Jared comes, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and swallows his hand up in long fingers. Jensen takes a moment to consider him, the height of the man, the way his broad chest narrows perfectly to a slim waist, the vaguely familiar slant of his gold-green eyes and the waves of hair that brush at his long throat.

Jensen smiles again, just to himself, because he has a plan. A wickedly delicious, wonderful plan. He can see in Jared’s eyes, beneath the awe and wonder, that he wants him, that Jared’s body hungers for Jensen the same way Jensen hungers for him, so he brings his other hand up to Jared’s cheek and cups it possessively, his eyes burning want into Jared’s soul, and he leans forward slowly, brushing his lips against Jared’s.

The other man jerks in surprise, and Jensen wonders for a brief second if he misread the situation, but then Jared’s pupils darken, and his hand snakes up behind Jensen’s neck and pulls his mouth back where it belongs.

And that mouth. Warm and wet and firm and Jensen can’t think, can’t remember what he’s doing, but his body knows, and his tongue presses questioningly along the line of Jared’s lips and they open, swallow him down all sweetness and heat, and shivers run the length of his spine. His hand moves unbidden to Jared’s ass, the other to his hair, and he squeezes both, draws Jared closer, too close, not close enough, and Jared’s hips thrust into his own, hard length on hard length and _fuck, he’s huge_ , and...

Jared pushes down on his head and he sinks to his knees, suddenly hungry, and undoes Jared’s frustrating pants and weirdly thin armor to pull out his cock. No preamble, no teasing, the want is too much and he sucks it deep into his mouth, near crying at the delicious firmness.

Jared groans and throws his head back, and Jensen looks up, sees his throat working soundlessly, and swallows.

Then Jared’s pulling out, and Jensen’s surprised and a little hurt, but Jared pushes him back, careless with desire, until he’s flat on the ground. Jared’s working his pants off his hips and they’re bucking, hopeful, and he tugs off his shirt and moans wordlessly when Jared’s still clothed. It takes too long, the removal of clothing, every minute taut with greed and pumping blood, but then Jared’s naked, and Jensen is as shocked as the other man had been at the entrance to his world. He’s beautiful, this man, this human, tall and stately, thick cords of muscle under gleaming brown skin, his erection bobbing with want, and Jensen’s stupid, blood-empty mind wonders briefly how he’d gotten that armor off so fast.

Jared kneels down on top of him, kissing, touching, and then the whole weight of Jared’s perfection presses down on his body and he gasps, sucking warm air from Jared’s mouth, and Jared lifts up, just a little, and he hears a voice begging, pleading, and realizes it's his own.

Long fingers prod his lips and he sucks them in, messy and wild, gets them all good and wet and they’re gone, replaced by Jared’s mouth. Jared shifts, and something insistent prods at his hole, and he nearly comes then and there.

Jared works him open slowly, patiently, driving him to shameless frenzy as he fucks himself on the other man’s fingers. Then Jared pulls out and sucks Jensen’s tongue, and something else, bigger, pushes inside, and the whole world is gone, nothing is left but the fullness inside and Jared’s mouth on his tongue.

Jared fucks him hard, frantic, and Jensen is grateful he went slow with his fingers and isn’t slow now, because he might not survive another tentative, drawn-out stretching. His nails catch on Jared’s back as he writhes beneath him, needy and desperate, wraps his legs tight around Jared’s waist and his wings around them both and pulls him impossibly closer.

When Jared comes, the sight of his face and the wet heat inside him pushes Jensen over the edge and he joins him, losing himself with Jared in the unfettered burn of human passion.

\---

Jared opens his eyes and closes them quickly, annoyed at the cheery sunshine streaming through his bedroom window. His head is pounding; he knows he’s hungover. He might as well lie in bed a little longer.

 _What a fucking weird dream_ , he thinks as his mind plays over the last few scenes. A teenaged wet dream colored by the crazy surrealism of Halloween. Another man’s body beneath him, his own body driven to orgasm by the firmness of masculine flesh and the tightness around his cock and the impossible softness of wings circling his back. He’d never been so completely surrounded by heat and want, not even in fantasy, and he shivers at the memory.

The following moments of the dream had been weirder, if that’s even possible. Knowing green eyes and a casually sure voice that pierced his post-orgasm haze, promising things like _tomorrow_ and _bonded_ and _take you back home, now_ , speaking of their future together and slipping an intricately-carved ring on Jared’s left hand, and he’d been too far gone on liquor and sex to protest or make much sense of Jensen’s words. That’s all he really remembers, and he feels a sudden stab of loss, of longing for something impossible that had been his for a moment, even if only in a dream.

Jared sighs deeply and stretches his limbs, unwilling to break the illusion. But it’s gone, he’s too much awake, and he opens his eyes, inexplicably sad and lonely, determined to get through this day and the next, maintaining the carefully built armor that protects him indiscriminately from hurt as well as hope. 

The sunlight catches something off to his left, and he looks, sleepy and curious, and there, glinting bright on his hand, is a perfect silver ring.


End file.
